Legend of Spyro: Prophecy of Blood
by Solomon7
Summary: As the sun rises on a new day for Warfang after the defeat of Malefor, a new evil is already brewing. Now, three years later, it is ready to make it's move. Can Spyro, Cynder, and all those who dare to stand against the evil be enough, or shall the land be plunged into darkness once more. Disclaimer: I do not own Spyro.
1. Darkness's Rebirth

Legend of Spyro

Prophecy of Blood

Act 1: Nightfall

Chapter 1

The world was ending. There was no other way to say it, this was the end. And Tykron knew it. No matter what the three remaining Guardians or the annoying overgrown dragonfly said, no matter how strong Spyro and Cynder were, this is were it all ended. Tykron knew he was going to die, and it terrified him.

"Come on!" the grey dragon in front of him shouted, "we have to keep moving!"

"Hold on!" Tykron shouted along with several others who were lagging behind due to injury or other health issues. Tykron was still in shock, just three days prior he had proposed to his future mate, Diasdra, and now that seemed an eternity ago.

"Hurry up!" Someone screamed, but Tykron tripped and fell, hitting his head. Disoriented, he couldn't see for a second. In that second, a portion of the cave collapsed, killing those who had been ahead of him.

"By the ancestors..." Tykron murmured, looking ahead at the carnage. He had never encountered death this way before, and it terrified him. He turned and ran, in a deep state of panic. Here ran and ran as the world crumbled around him. He never saw the pit.

Tykron screamed as he fell, only to remember he had wings. He used them just in time and landed in at the bottom of the dark pit. If the yellow electric dragon had been thinking, he would have used his electrical abilities to create light enough to fly out, but this never crossed his mind. Things like that are often lost in a state of shock and panic. Instead, he stumbled around for a while, lost in this land that will never see the sun, before a stumbled across a ray of light. Is hope rising, he followed the light. As he walked, the light grew stronger and stronger, until he could see where he was.

"Goodness, what is this?" He asked aloud, looking around a huge room filled with crystals of all colors, emitting the light that had drawn him here. He walked around looking at the crystals, marveling at their beauty, until he saw a huge black one. Curiosity his guide, he reached out and touched the crystal. A bright light blinded him for a moment, and when the light faded the crystal was gone.

"Strange." Tykron observed, moving forward to where the crystal had been. Inscription, the kind best left forgotten, covered the wall that was behind the crystal. Tykron, at first, was disappointed that he couldn't read them, but soon found he could. If he had been thinking, he would have guessed magic was at work, but it was already to late. He read what the ancients had wrote and would always remember it and be tempted, as was the curse of evil.

He knew now what he must do. Tykron turned around and exited the small chamber and began to fly up, but the very forces that led him here seemed to turn against him now. Boulder began to fall from the ceiling as the conflict deep beneath the surface intensified, but Tykron would not be stopped now. He blasted his way through, using his electrical abilities to smash incoming boulders. Nothing would stop him now...

Diasdra paced around nervously at the top of the tunnel as refugees continued to pour out. The emerald earth dragoness was starting to loose hope of ever seeing her beloved again. She was about to cry when she saw it, a glimmer of yellow in the crowd. "Please, by the ancestors." She begged as she began to push through the crowd. And there he was, wide-eyed and beaten-up, but alive.

"Tykron!" She sang in pure joy and tackled her soon-to-be mate.

"Oh Diasdra!" Tykron shouted, tears in his eyes, "thank the ancestors your alright."

The two stared into each others eyes for a time before Diasdra leaned in and kissed him. When they broke, she helped him up and they stayed close while the little dragonfly told them to continue moving. They soon joined the other dragons in the air to see the earth slowly start to come back together, start to heal.

"Oh, such a beautiful new beginning." Diasdra whispered, unaware that something was wrong with here love. A monster had started to grow within him, a monster that knew no love. But for now he was still her love just as she was his. "I'm so glad your here with me."

"And you with me." Tykron said, but what he was really thinking about was they inscription that he had found. And how all things died, even the earth. Even stars. Even him. _Even her_.

** Three Years Later, Warfang***

"...So, to conclude our lesson on Elemental Theory, I would like all of you to read chapters ten through twelve over the weekend." A large yellow dragon said to the class as they groaned. The class, of course, was full of teenage dragons, who had just had their hopes of a homework free weekend dashed.

"Now, now," The yellow dragon said, "We shalt have any of that, we are just about to get to the interesting part. You will be studying the fundamentals of the elements and who..." At this point even the most dedicated students started to phase him out.

"He always says that." A light blue dragoness whispered to a red and orange dragoness. The light blue dragoness was pretty standard for her age, standing eight feet tall and eleven feet long, she had a wingspan of fourteen feet. She had light blue scales, a white underbelly, and her wings and horns were silver.

"I think everything is interesting for Guardian Volteer." The red and orange dragoness whispered back. She was a little older, and therefore, a little taller than her counterpart, but roughly the same dimensions. Her scales were a rose red and a burnt orange for her underside with orange wings and black horns.

"Unfortunately for us." muttered a green and brown dragon. He was possibly the largest student in the room, with nine feet tall, eleven feet long, and a wingspan of fifteen and a half feet. His scales where a moss green and an underbelly that was a mud brown. He had mud brown wings and dark brown horns.

"Com'on, my uncle isn't that bad," a yellow and electric blue dragon whispered. He was one of the smaller dragons in the room, only seven and a half feet tall, nine and three-fourths feet long, and a wingspan of twelve feet. He had bright yellow scales with an electric blue underbelly, blue wings and horns.

"..so, that'll be all for today!" Volteer said as his students began to pack up their books and papers. "Remember, chapters ten through twelve by Monday!"

"Freedom!" The red-orange dragoness from earlier shouted as she raced across the courtyard and away from the Dragon Temple's "school area".

"Valiria, what!" The light blue dragoness shouted, giving chase, "Where supposed to all go to the market today, remember?!"

"Oh great," The yellow dragon groaned, "I forgot we promised Anteria and Val that we'd accompany them to the market."

"It isn't that bad, Watts," The green-brown dragon stated as they followed their two female friends, "Besides, last time you found that cool amulet."

"Yeah, I did." Watts sighed, glancing down at his amulet depicting two dragons, one black as night and the other white as snow, chasing each other in a circle. "Alright, Samson, lead the way." So the two hurried up to catch up with the other two, who were already exploring the different stalls and shops of Warfang, the last great city east of the Titan Mountains.

The shops of Warfang were full of different species, items, performers (such as sword swallowers and jugglers), foods, and languages. It, in short, was absolute chaos. Of course, for Anteria Icenguard, descendant of the last great Ice Kings of the North, the chaos and confusion only added to the fun of trying to bargain and barter. "How much for this gem?" She'd ask, and by the time she bought it, it would already be fifty percent off. Her friends, on the other hand, didn't quite have the hang of haggling she had, so they were often ripped off.

"Come on, Val." Anteria said as they entered the market, "I want to see if Candver has some new books in stock."

"But I wanted to go see the performers." Valiria complained as Anteria dragged her to a nearby shop. Anteria, once in the shop, began to look around excitedly, picking up odd books and flipping through their aged pages.

Valiria, on the other hand, was just trying not to die of boredom. Occasionally she'd see a book on combat or fire breathing that would peek her interest, but she would just get bored and put it back. She considered ditching her best friend and seeking out to see the performers, when something caught her eye. A large dark purple book with a golden latch was sitting on the main desk of the shop. She moved to it and blew the dust off of it and saw the title, _History and Secrets of the Purple Dragon._

"See something you like?" The shopkeeper asked.

Valiria smiled and simply asked "How much?"

Meanwhile, outside the shop there was a very special performance taking place. Dragons, moles, and cheetah-men of all ages gathered around to see the spectacle. Seven cheetah-men twirled elemental staffs, one fire, one ice, one electricity, one earth, one water, one wind, and the final one light. To add to this spectacle, there was a band of moles playing upbeat music.

"Wow!" Watts breathed as he rushed to get a good view, "absolutely fantastic!"

"I wonder who sponsored this." Samson said as he caught up with Watts.

"Hmm?"

"A performance on this stage with this amount of skill requires a massive donor." Samson said wisely as the performance drew to an end, "Probably someone who wants to be elected Head of the Council or something like that."

"Oh," Watts said as the performance ended, "So some greedy noble who desires power. It's a wonder the Guardians let the Council return."

"Traditions are traditions." Samson sighed as a crimson red dragon halfway through his lifespan walked before the gathered crowd as the performers left, "Ah, now we see the dragon behind the wealth."

"I am Cancellarius, of the noble house of Ignation," The crimson dragon bellowed as the crowd clapped, "And I hope you all will choose me as your next leader of the Council. I promise, as-"

"Ha, I doubt you posses any ability to fulfill any promise you make." Watts and Samson, along with the rest of the crowd, turned to see a middle-aged yellow dragon approaching the crowd."

"How dare you-"

"Just how much did that performance cost you?" the yellow interrupted.

"Well," Cancellarius said, momentarily stumped by the simple question, "each performer was paid a golden sovereigns and the band was paid-"

"No," the yellow dragon said as he now had moved through the crowd and now directly faced Cancellarius directly, "How much did it cost _you_, and how much did it cost the _people of the city_!"

Cancellarius suddenly paled, "I-..., are you accusing me of-"

"Yes, Cancellarius, I am," The yellow dragon said and then turned to the crowd and held up a piece of paper, "Read the police report for yourselves, citizens of Warfang, for this dragon is a fraud!"

Suddenly the crowd, after seeing the paper marked with the seal of the Warfang constable, started to shout in anger at Cancellarius. The once great cimson dragon gave a whimper and flew off. The yellow dragon hid a smile and walked over and nailed the paper to a public notice board.

"Well, that was sudden." Watts said as the crowd began to disperse.

"I don't like this." Samson muttered to Watts, "That was Tykron, who is also running for Head of the Council."

"So your saying that he-"

"No," Samson said, interrupting his friend, "that was definitely a legitimate allegation, it's just now there are only three candidates left."

"Oh," Watts said, "Well, I'll ask my uncle about it, maybe it's not as bad as we think."

"You do that." Samson said as they left.

Tykron laughed as he left the market place. His plan had been a complete success. Even though he had taken a risk to announce the police report himself, it had been worth it to see the arrogant fool leave in shame. Now he was one step closer to victory, and after the public areas tomorrow, he'd be guaranteed it. The Darkness had been right, and it wouldn't abandon him now. Of course, he had to act quickly, the festival of the Blood Moons was rapidly approaching, and he need to have control of the city and gained Spyro's trust by then if he was to win.


	2. First Blood

Prophecy of Blood

Chapter 2

Volkrone "Watts" Coltor was a lot like his uncle Volteer Coltor in that he was very knowledgeable. He knew about all the theories of Elemental Control, and about how they developed and who developed them. He understood Atomic Theory and what it could mean for everyone. He was definitely Volteer's nephew there, but he was also unlike his uncle in a different category, he was very, very shy. Watts could hardly speak a word to someone he didn't know, unlike his uncle who could talk a stranger's ear off.

So it shouldn't be any surprise that when Watts entered his house and saw a purple dragon and a black dragoness he froze, unable to even think. For they were Spyro and Cynder, the saviors of the world. He, to say the least, was star struck.

"Oh, hi!" Cynder said, turning to greet him. She, of course, had grown tremendously since the climatic clash with Malifor and now stood thirteen feet high, fifteen feet long, and had a wingspan of seventeen and a half feet.

"You must be Volkrone." Spyro said as he too turned around to great him. Spyro had also front during the three years since the final battle, now standing fourteen feet high, fifteen feet long, and had a wingspan of seventeen feet.

Watts stared silently at the two legendary dragons, unable to utter a syllable. "He's a little shy," His uncle, Volteer, explained, "but he can be a conversationalist given time."

"Okay," Cynder said as she and Spyro moved past him towards the door, "Well, it was nice meeting you, Volkrone."

"Yeah, see you later." Spyro said as they left.

"You could have at least said hi." Volteer said with a long sigh as Watts recovered from his shock.

"Sorry," Watts muttered, walking over to his uncle, "but I, I don't know, I just freeze up when dragons like them enter the room."

"For goodness sake, their just dragons!" Volteer exclaimed, "and you do that when any dragon you don't know enters the room, your too shy for your own good." Watts hung his head and Volteer sighed, "Sorry if I came off a bit critical there but you need to learn to talk to others. Anyway, anything interesting happen today?"

"Hmm...actual something did," Watts said, straying away from his usual answer of "nothing much", "We were in the market, and you'll never guess who showed up."

"Let's see," Volteer said, deciding to try and guess, "from the way you said that, I conclude you do not like this person, I also consider this person must have wanted a large audience, was it Tykron?"

"Spyro told you, didn't he." Watts inferred.

"Yes," Volteer said with a long sigh, "at the way he put it you'd thought Tykron had led the investigation and hunted the dragon down and apprehended him himself."

"Trust me it wasn't at all that glamorous."

"I know," Volteer said as the two dragons began towards the living room and lie down, "Spyro is very found of Tykron, and who can blame him. Half the city thinks Tykron is some sort of messiah. The dragon designs two aqueducts and a system for plumbing and suddenly he's a saint!"

"Don't forget the new new walls are by his design as well." Watts added.

"Yes, yes, and all that's good," Volteer assured, "but now Tykron seems to want to control the city, absolutely. Did you know he put in a motion today to make us, the Guardians, under the cities jurisdiction! Unbelievable, and it stands a good chance at passing! I'm starting to think he plans to usurp us."

"And to think you two used to be friends." Watts added, letting his uncle rant.

Volteer let out a long sigh, "Back before the war, he was a very good friend, but people change. But enough about that, politics is always depressing, let's her about your day at school."

"Err...not much happened." Watts said with a shrug.

***Warfang Market***

Spyro and Cynder walked along the streets of the market district as moles scrambled around with preparations for the Blood Moons festival. But the two legendary dragons paid little attention to what was happening as they walked, lost in thought. Spyro was, as usual these days, thinking about his resent appointment to general. With the war winding down, it was more of an honorary thing, but he had demonstrated great leadership and tactical ability the last few months. But he still thought he was unready. Cynder, on the other hand, was thinking of Spyro. She felt she was stuck in the "friend zone" with him. She had mustered her courage once before to confess her love, but he, with the world being torn apart and everything, hadn't heard it. Now, three years later, she still hadn't mustered the courage to say it.

"Hey, Spyro! Cynder!"

The two turned to see a yellow dragonfly fly up to them. "Sparx, what's up?" Spyro asked the little yellow insect that he considered a brother.

"Ah, not much, just out on an evening flight, how's everything for you two?"

"Fine." Spyro and Cynder said at the same time.

"How is your book coming along?" Cynder asked.

"Oh it's coming," Sparx answered. Sparx had decided, since neither Spyro nor Cynder had objected, to write down their journey from the time Ignitus found him in the swamps to the defeat of Malifor, "Actually, that's why I came, you see, I'm at the part where Spyro and I are about to..err, face you, Cynder, and I, well, needed your input."

"Okay," Cynder said with a sigh, thinking back to her time has the Terror of the Skies. It was frightening.

"Okay, let's go." Spyro said as he started to walk towards the temple.

"Err...Spyro," Cynder said, causing him to stop and turn around, "I'd rather not have, have you there. It's just, you know..."

"Okay," Spyro said, giving Cynder a sympathetic look, "I understand, you and Sparx go, I'll stay here."

"Thanks." Cynder said and she and Sparx headed towards the dragon temple.

Spyro sighed as they walked away. Cynder still wasn't completely open with him. Recently, he had started to develop feelings for the black dragoness that went beyond friendship, but he wasn't sure she felt the same way. So he remained silent, waiting for any indication that she might love him as he loved her. Spyro turned back towards the markets and walked alone among the crowd, most of which stared at him, or even worse, bowed to him.

"Hmm, fancy meeting you here Spyro." Spyro turned to the direction of the voice to see a familiar yellow dragon walking to him.

"Tykron, how are you?" Spyro said, walking towards the dragon. Tykron had, ever since the death of Ignitus, been Spyro's mentor and friend.

"I have been well." Tykron said as they began to walk together, "How about you, confessed your feelings for a certain dragoness."

Spyro blushed and shook his head. He could hear exited whispers from several young female dragons not to far off.

"To bad," Tykron said, "a beauty like her won't be available forever, you know." This statement was followed by more whispers and giggles from all nearby female dragons.

"Anyway," Spyro said, desperate to change the conversation, "I thought you were brilliant today, how could a dragon like that ever be in a position of power?"

"Politics, I'm afraid," Tykron said with a deep sigh, "once someone like that's in, it is incredibly hard to get them out."

"But I guess that's why your running for Head of the Council," Spyro said as they passed the market gate, "to clean up the arena and help rebuild."

"Yes," Tykron said, "but also to help those who have lost everything due to this devastating conflict."

"If there were more politicians like you, the word politics wouldn't have a negative connotation." Spyro said.

"Thank you Spyro," Tykron said with a smile, "Maybe you should join the political arena, you certainly have a pulse of. The needs of the people."

"No thank you," Spyro said with a laugh, "Politics isn't something I'd excel at. Anyway," Spyro continued as he looked at the setting sun, "I'd better head back before Terrador sends a search party or something, see you later."

"Till next time," Tykron said as Spyro walked off, "Oh, Spyro!" Tykron called after him. "There is an ancient tradition that, at the festival of the Blood Moons, if you love a dragoness deeply, you confess it to her on that night."

"Okay," Spyro said, getting the idea, "Thanks!"

Tykron grinned as Spyro flew off. The conversation couldn't have gone better if he'd had wrote out what Spyro was to say. And plenty of people had heard it, so that would give them something to think about when it came down to the vote. The Darkness had been right once again, why had he been so slow to trust it again. _Oh well, _he thought, _I'm about to accomplish It's task. And I eagerly await my reward._

***Thirty-eight miles east of Warfang***

Commander Far'sy Divando, a middle-aged earth dragon with dark emerald scales and light, mud brown wings, was leading a patrol over the Corrupted Forest, the current hiding place for several ape tribes, as the sun began to set. He had on his right a young wind dragon by the name of Cyprus. He had grey scales and white wings. Cyprus was a new recruit and it was his first patrol. On Far'sy's left was a young fire dragoness by the name of Cleona. She had scales the color of scarlet and dark pink wings. She had been his wing-drake for six months now, and was pretty good in a fight. Far'sy had flown this rout several times before, and was hardly worried. If he had know what was coming, he'd have never left the barracks.

"Tighten up Cyprus!" He shouted.

"Sir yes sir!" The young wind dragon whimpered as he flew closer to the other two.

"Does anyone else feel like somethings amiss?" Cleona asked as they passed over a small river.

"No, why?" Far'sy asked.

"Well, the ape camps that were here yesterday have been abandoned." the scarlet dragoness pointed out.

"Hmm...Cyprus, stay here, Cleona, your with me." Far'sy said as he and Cleona began their decent. They landed in a small clearing to see what remained of an ape camp.

"Strange," Cleona remarked as she turned over an ape corpse, "No markings, it's almost as if he was scared to death."

Far'sy inspected what had once been the chief and saw that its face had been burned by acid. "I don't like this, we need to le-"

"Ghaaa!" Far'sy turned to see Cleona being torn into by what at first seemed to be a dragon, but its wings seemed to be fused to its forelegs.

"Wyverns!" Far'sy shouted as he launched a earth shard into the wyvern that had attacked Cleona, killing it instantly. "We need to get out of here, fly!"

"I can't!" Cleona shouted in panic, flapping her shredded wing.

Far'sy uttered several curses under his breath and shouted, "Cyprus, over hear!"

The grey dragon flew over quicker than most ever dreamed of, "Sir?"

"Go to the barracks and tell them that there are wyverns here and Cleona and myself have to make our way back by foot!"

"Sir, just leave me here." Cleona said, blood still pouring out of her wounds.

"Not a chance," Far'sy said as he walked over and began to bandage her wounds, "Cyprus, hurry!"

"Ye-yes sir!" He stuttered and immediately flew off towards camp.

"Sir, you should just leave me." Cleona said as Far'sy finished bandaging her wounds.

"Come on soldier," He said, "we have a long walk."

The two set out, slowly but surely making there way back. It was well after dark when they had to stop at a nearby river for a drink.

"Wyvern," Cleona muttered after she drank, "I thought they were extinct."

"So did I," Far'sy muttered as he watched the tree line, "but apparently they disagree with us on that point."

"My wound doesn't hurt as much anymore now, though." Cleona said.

"Really?" Far'sy said in surprise, "Let's have a look." Far'sy walked over to her and lifted some of the bandages. What he saw nearly made him scream.

"Commander?" Cleona questioned, "Is something wrong?"

"Cleona, I-"

"Get themsssss!"

The two turned to see three wyvern charging toward them. Immediately, Far'sy raised a stone shield to shield them from the incoming poison spit. Cleona shot a fire ball at the first one, causing it to jump out of the way. Far'sy launched stone spears at the other two, but the second one gust deflected them using a shadow hand. Then the third one launched red waves at them. Suddenly Far'sy was afraid, very afraid. He couldn't think anymore. He just coward as the wyverns descended upon him. One bit him on the neck and the other knocked him out...


	3. Coming Tide

LoS: Prophecy of Blood

Chapter 3

Valiria Flarian was reading her new book on her bed when the sun came up. Valiria, Val to her friends, was considered by most of her classmates to be the type that didn't read (not couldn't read, but didn't). And she agreed with them, why read when one could be out and training or playing tailball. So when she bought the book in the first place it surprised everyone, even herself. But it had felt as if she had to have the book, and once she started to read it she couldn't seem to put it down.

"Val, you already up?" Her mom called as Valiria flipped a page.

"Hmm, what is it mom?" She asked, her eyes glued to the page.

"Just saying breakfast will be done in a bit."

Val's eyes went wide as she put the book down and looked out her window to see the sun rising in the east. She then looked at the book, still lying there, open on the page she had been reading. _This is impossible, _she thought, _How did I read a book for an entire night and not feel the least bit tired. _

"Val?"

"Hmm...coming." She shouted as she closed the book and got off of her bed. She glanced back towards the old purple book and then continued down the stairs.

"There you are, ready for breakfast?" The elder scarlet dragoness said as Valiria descended the stairs.

"Yep, what's for breakfast?" Valiria asked as she walked into the kitchen.

"I thought I'd try and make a fish omelet, want to try?"

"Err..." Valiria looked at the mess of egg and overcooked fish that her mother dumped on a plate, "I think I'll just have some fruit, did dad already leave?"

"Yes, busy day in the Council today." Valiria's mom said as she sat down and bit into her omelet, "Eh, I think I got the seasoning wrong."

"Yeah, election day tomorrow. I wondered who'll win." Valiria said as she bit into a piece of fruit, not at all concerned with the elections, but thinking about the book which had held her attention for an entire night.

"I think Zithian supports Tykron, at least that's who he keeps talking about." Valiria's mother said.

"Well, I'm heading out." Valiria said as she walked to the door.

"Already?"

"I'll be back for supper!" Valiria called, already out the door and onto the morning streets of Warfang.

***Outside Warfang's Main Gate***

Cyprus particly crashed into the ground as he landed at the city gates of Warfang, much to two dragons on guards' surprise. He muttered incoherently as the guards rushed him to the apothecary, unaware of his surroundings or of the large cut along his side pouring out blood. He heard the healers mutter and tell him to be calm, but he didn't really hear them. He just wanted to close his eyes and drift away, but he couldn't. Not when Far'sy and Cleona still needed him.

"What did he say?" One of the healers, a young female cheetah, asked as they bandaged him.

"Something about a 'fair say', send for some red crystals." The other healer, a pale blue dragon, said as the cheetah quickly ran toward the crystal deposit.

"Will he be alright?" Someone asked. Cyprus thought he recognized the voice, but was to tired to turn and look.

"Uncertain, but we'll try our best." the healer dragon said as the cheetah came back with red crystals. "Good, now apply gently." Cyprus felt cool relief as his wound sealed up. Finally, he wasn't in constant pain. "Now it is just a matter on how much blood he lost."

"Can I speak to him?" The familiar voice asked.

"Can't do anymore harm, go ahead."

Cyprus suddenly knew who the familiar voice belonged too he mustered his strength and muttered "General Spyro..."

"I'm here." The young general said as he came into view of his soldier.

"Must...help...Far'sy and... Cleona..." He whispered, still to weak to do anything except breath.

"Where are they? What happened?" Spyro asked.

"Near the Mountain of...Malifor. We were attacked...while on patrol." Cyprus answered as he began to loose consciousness.

"By what, what attacked you?" Spyro asked, already formulating a rescue plan.

"Wyv...wyverns." Cyprus muttered as he fell unconscious. The rooms. Was silent for a while, then Spyro told the healer to tell him when Cyprus woke and then he briskly walked away to call an emergency meeting.

***Council Chambers***

Tykron loved emergencies. It was during an emergency, when your adversaries's attention was focused on another area entirely, one could strike. Emergencies set things out of balance, and he enjoyed every moment of it, especially when he could view both sides.

He took his seat on the Emergency Council, which he had held for a year, in between the two other elected representatives, Zithian Flarian (an middle-aged fire dragon who was one of his supporters) and Vicrora Distan (the only one who was left to oppose him for the Head of Council) and directly across from the Guardian's seats, four of which where empty (Seven in all. Volteer, Terrador, and Cyril were, of course, presented, but the chair for fire was now empty, along with wind, water, and light). Between them sat the four Grand Generals: Issan Warrior (the youngest, and possibly brightest, of the assembled, a wind dragon whom had proven himself a capable leader), Flamatric Inaicin (a large, old ice dragon who had severed for eighty years on the council), and Hirren Higher (a self-serving old earth dragon who would do anything to stay in power). And then there was the reason they were there, a young purple dragon, caring the rank of general, who was patiently awaiting them to be seated.

"What is it that we have been so hastily assembled for?" Flamatric asked, the old dragon had probably been woken up to attend the meeting.

"I believe Spyro has something to report." Terrador stated. The old earth Guardian was probably the closest to expiring, being over two-hundred and surviving the war had finally caught up to him it seemed.

"Yes, I do." Spyro said as all eyes turned on him, "Just one hour ago a member of a patrol party came back severely wounded. He is in critical care right now, but the rest of the patrol hasn't reported in. I have sent out search parties, but I believe they have been captured or killed."

The council chamber broke into conversation at this, everyone trying to voice their opinions at once. "Everyone, please!" Issan said to quite the crowd, "I believe Spyro has something else to add."

Spyro nodded and took a deep breath, "According to the soldier, wyverns attacked him and his patrol."

For a moment the council chamber was quite, then the silence was ended by an uproar of yelling and shouting. Opinions ranged from immediate action to wait and send out more patrols, and no one was really listening to what the other was saying.

"Quite!" Terrador roared. The chamber was again fell silent, "Now, one at a time."

"Terrador," Vicrora said, standing up, "I'd like to motion that we deal with this immediately by sending out a portion of our troops out to meet this threat."

"That's absurd," Zithian said, now standing up, "We have no confirmation about how many wyverns there are nor where they are."

"I agreed with Zithian on this one," Cyril said, also standing up "We need to know more before we act."

"And have another patrol brutally attacked! I think immediate action is necessary!" Inaicin practically roared, causing the chamber to once again erupt into shouting.

"Order! Order!" Terrador roared, quiteing the room, "Vicrora presented a motion, and I think Inaicin seconded." Terrador glanced at Inaicin and the ice dragon nodded, "Now, all who agree say "Agreed".

Vicrora, Inaicin, Issan, Flamatric, and Hirren all said "Agreed".

"All opposed say "Disagreed".

Volteer, Cyril, Zithian, and Tykron all said "Disagreed".

"The "Agreed"s have it, now whom shall lead the attack?" Terrador asked.

"I recommend Issan for this task." Vicrora suggested.

"I agree." Tykron said, inwardly smiling as his plan came together, "He is obviously the best to send. He has demonstrated great ability to lead an army in difficult terrain."

The same possess was repeated again to elect Issan to lead the army. Tykron inwardly smiled as everything feel in place, tomorrow it would begin. He was anxious now, waiting, but it would be worth it.

***Outside the Council Chambers***

"Come on Issan, let me come with you," Spyro pleaded as he and the slightly older with different dragon Grand General walked down the rode to the Main Gate.

"Sorry, but you are needed here to defend the city," Issan replied, "Besides, it'll probably be just a firefly chase, nothing more."

"But, two of my soldiers could be captured." Spory retorted.

Issan shook his head as they walked past the font gate, "No, Spyro, not this time my friend. This time you have to stay here."

"Alright," Spyro said, "but be careful, Far'sy was no fool, and I believe Cyprus's report."

"I will, may the Ancestors watch over you." Issan said as he took off into the sky, accompanied by two hundred other dragons.

"And may they watch over you!" Spyro shouted as his friend faded from sight. Spyro sighed and turned back and walked back into Warfang.

***Lair of the Wyverns***

Far'sy woke up in pain. Every bone in his body felt as though it was liquifing and shattering. It was a pain that would usually kill someone, but something held him back from death, even though he'd welcome it. He heard others talking asking him questions. Questions about Warfang and her defenses, but he refused to answer. They would not brake him.

In the end though, they did brake him, and rewarded him.

***Flarian Estate***

"Come on, I have to show you it." Valiria said as she, Watts, Anteria and Samson entered her house. The sun had now just set now and Warfang was just now slowing down for the night, the streets slowly emptying.

"This had better be good," Anteria said as they walked up the stairs to Valiria's room, "I had to cancel a badly needed claw manicure for this."

"Oh, come on, Anteria, it sounds interesting." Watts said as Valiria opened the door to her room.

"I think she's over exaggerating it." Samson whispered to Watts.

"Most likely," Watts admitted, "but there has to be something interesting about it."

"Here it is." Valiria said, showing them the purple book.

"An interesting title," Watts observed.

"I'll admit it does sound juicy." Anteria said, lying down.

"Yeah, read us an exert or something Val." Samson said, also lying down.

"Alright," Valiria said, flipping through the pages, "Oh, this sounds good, 'The Prophecy of Blood'."

"Well, lets here it." Watts said, taking a seat.

"Okay," Valiria said and then began to read the prophecy...

***Tykron Residence***

Tykron moved silently through his house, careful not to disturb his wife or newly hatched child. He moves out onto the balcony over looking the city and stares off into the distance, towards the mountains where his army is preparing to attack. He then looks at the star lit sky and begins to recite the ancient prophecy...

* * *

_In the time after the war_

_Darkness shall rise once more_

_Befriending his most hated foe_

_Power over Death, backed by Ancient lore,_

_An ancient debt that he will owe_

_And in payment for sinking so low_

_Must in Blood be paid_

_Of many that he does not know,_

_Now Darkness shall raid_

_And Those whom fight it will fade_

_Unless light is found at Their core_

_The World will fall back to which it was made._


	4. First Victory

Legend of Spyro

The Prophecy of Blood

Chapter IV

***Tykron residents***

"Tykron! Wake up sweetheart."

"Mmmm...five more minutes." Tykron groaned, trying to ignore the outside world.

"You need to get up if your to make it to the poles today before the election."

Tykron groaned again and opened his eyes to see his wife, Diasdra, smiling. "Morning." He said as he stretched and got up.

"Good morning," She said and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She smiled and, walked into the kitchen.

"Yes, a good morning indeed." Tykron said with a smile. He gathered all he needed and prepared to leave. He eat a quick bite, said goodbye to his wife and still sleeping hatching, and left towards the City Council. But he made one quick stop before the great domed building into a dark alleyways and sent a message using an ancient magic thought to be lost. And this message began a series of events.

***Mountain of Malefor***

Issan Warrior was probably one of the greatest generals in the history of the Dragon Realms. He had been born into war and had played his part exceedingly well. His forces had been outnumbered, out-resourced, but never out-maneuvered. He used small numbers to his advantage, installing new "cheetah warfare" tactics used by the cheetah clans during the ancient Dragon-Cheetah wars, hitting enemy supply lines, utilizing cheetah snipers to kill enemy officers, and razing the enemy with carefully planned fire attacks. Yet, he was still pushed back, first by the Terror of the Skies then by Malefor himself, but he always had the respect of his soldiers. If he hadn't been commanding the armies of Warfang there would have been nothing for Spyro and Cynder to save.

Issan Warrior scanned the camp his soldiers had set up, marveling at the speed they had restored the old outpost that once watched the Ape Kings. Now today it served as an outpost again, but now to hunt a new ancient foe. Issan's gaze hardened as he thought about all the stories told to him about the Wyverns. According to legend, they had once been allies and partners to the Dragon Kingdoms, but they began to dabble in dark magic. This led to to the Great War between dragons and wyverns, in which wyverns were supposed to have gone extinct.

"General Issan!" the thirty-four year old wind dragon turned to see one of the many cheetah scouts come up to him, "We have found them."

"Good, where are they?" Issan asked, already beginning to plot out several tactics.

"Their held up on the western ridge of the mountain," the cheetah scouts reported, "I estimate nearly four-hundred, sir."

"Good, you are dismissed." The young cheetah bowed and left as Issan walked towards the command tent. When he walked in, his three officers rose up and saluted. There was Zucar, a cheetah dressed in battle armor, his second-in-command Vevon Ferdro, a young but smart deep blue ice dragon, and Caveriansia Leon, a mighty orange and mud-red dragoness.

"At ease," Issan as he took his position around the large map-table that took up most of the command tent, "report."

"All patrols have reported in and we are ready to begin the assault." Vevon responds.

"My warriors are ready for anything. We await your lead." Zucar says, his hand resting on his sword.

"My unit is ready to execute our orders." Caveriansia said with a confidential growl, "Those worms will wish there were still extinct."

"Calm yourself, Leon," Issan scolds, "I need you thinking, not just blasting."

"As always, sir."

"Now then," Issan says as he turns his attention to the map, "now that we know where they are and how many they have I have some adjustments to ma-"

"Sir! Sir!"

All four turned there heads to see a young cheetah dressed in scout armor and cloak running into the tent. "What is it Servar?" Zucar asked.

"A small battalion of apes is approaching under a banners of truce," the young cheetah explains, "they wish to parlay!"

"Apes," Caveriansia scoffed, "Why would we wish to even look at them unless we are tearing them limb from limb."

"Caveriansia! They come under banner of truce! We have to at least hear what they have to say." Vevon chastised.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, Vevon!" The fire dragoness threatened.

"Peace, let us hear what the general has to say." Zucar interjected as their gaze turned to Issan. Issan has deep in thought, remembering the fall of Iskandretta. The last dragon city to fall, leaving Warfang as the last stronghold for dragonkind. The city had been razed to the ground by an ape army under the command of the Terror of the Skies, and even through he was just a young adolescent, he still remembered the screams and the terror. But he could not let than cloud his judgment.

"I'll meet with them..."

***Warfang, Chamber of the Guardians***

"We must begin to move the eggs to the old temple," Terrador said. He, Cyril, and Volteer where gathered in the large conference room, seated around a large table with seven chairs, four of which were empty.

"That would be tremendous undertaking," Cyril commented, "it will not go unnoticed."

"We could do it in small bits, no one ever sees the entire egg chamber at once." Volteer suggested.

"Hmm...that does sound likely to succeed," Terrador observed," If done correctly and with patience."

"But who would watch over the eggs, it has to be one of us and we'd need an excuse to leave." Cyril said.

"I believe that I have the perfect excuse," Volteer explained, "I will say I'm taking Volkrone to train to be the next electric guardian."

The room was silent for a moment, and then Cyril sighed, "I guess t is time we past the torch."

"Yes," Terrador said, sighing as well, "it only seems like yesterday we were being tested, and now we're passing the guardianship down. Very well, we will go with your plan, Volteer."

"Right," Volteer said with a nod, "I'll go tell Volkrone then. Get some of the eggs ready for transport." The electric guardian then turned and left.

***Mountain of Malefor***

Issan looked out over his army with his generals standing on his right and two apes, their tribe elder Alloina and their military commander Caspian, to his left. A large number of apes were now gathered with the army, equipped with crude armor, swords and bows. With the apes and the 50 cheetahs and 200 dragons, an army of 324 was now under his direct control. The dragons where now dressed in there plated battle armor, which was a gray color with blue markings. Issan and his generals wear silver armor to mark them as commanders. They were finally ready for battle.

"Today," Issan shouted, addressing the army as a whole, "we face an enemy who we thought was extinct, an enemy who is much like us dragons but are far from any of us here. They worship the dark magic that corrupts and destroys, and they will not stop until all of as are dead. But, in attacking us all they have given us common ground on which to fight. Put the deference of dragon, cheetah, and ape behind you today, for today we are all brothers and sisters in battle. And because we fight as one we will win." A thunderous "Hurrah!" erupted from the army before Issan continued, "We have a plan, one which will win this battle by not only utilizing the terrain but the sharpshooters of the cheetah and ape armies. If we execute this plan, we will make the wyverns extinct once again!" Another "Hurrah!" erupted from the the army, "Listen to your commanders and we will win, for our home!"

The army broke out into applause (even the ape army) as the commanders took charge of their troops. Caveriansia and 150 of the dragons joined Issan as they prepared to take off, "Follow my lead, and be ready to lead our enemies to their doom." he said to them and they all shouted "Aye Sir!" They then took off to face the enemy.

It was not long until the wyverns spotted them and took flight themselves. Issan was more than a little nervous, having fought most of his battles against ground armies, but it appears the wyverns neglected to use armor, giving his force an advantage despite being outnumbered. "Form up!" He shouted as his army formed into a cone shape pointed at the center of the wyvern mass. Seconds pass as Issan choices his first target, a black and red wyvern near the front. He mentally counts down, 5...4...3...2...1...

Issan's claws sank into the wyvern's neck, killing it instantly. The same happened all throughout the front as the armies clashed. Screams and roars filled the air as many fall to the ground dead or dying. Issan moves to his next enemy, an earth-brown wyvern. Issan hits him with a wind blast and charges him, embedding his tail spike into the wyvern's gut.

"Ravocian!" Issan turns just in time to block a fire plastic from another wyvern, this one a mud-orange. The other wyvern slips off Issan's tail spike, lifelessly falling to the ground as the mud-orange wyvern talked Issan, it's claws scraping against his armor. Issan whipped his head around and bit into the wyvern's neck, killing it. As it fell to the ground Issan spat out its blood and surveyed the battle. His losses where few, but the enemy was begging to push his forces back.

Issan launched himself into another battle between three wyverns and Caveriansia, ripping into a gray and black wyvern. "General Leon!" He shouted as she incinerated a ice-blue wyvern.

"Aye Grand General!" She said as he blasted the final ash colored wyvern with a vicious wind attack, ripping its wings and sending it spiraling helplessly to the ground.

"Sound the fall-back!" He ordered and she nodded and took out her horn and blew it. The sound echoed through the battle as his forces began to turn and fly away. The wyverns let out a born-chilling roar and gave chase, unknowingly playing right into Issan's claws. Issan pulls to the front of the army and leads them around the mountain and towards a large canyon almost two miles wide.

This was the moment of truth for Issan Warrior, if the wyverns followed them through the canyon then the cheetah and ape sharpshooters would have no trouble killing a great many of the beast while the 50 dragons guarding them under command of Vevon would be able to deal with any who broke off from the main group. If they instead went above the canyon things would get a lot more difficult.

As Issan and his army entered the canyon he glanced back and smiled, the wyvens were entering the canyon after them. He waited until every bit of the wyvern force was in and shouted "NOW!" cheetahs and apes started to shoot arrows and hurl stones at the wyverns as he and his army pulled upwards and out of the canyon. He heard the screams, roars, and shouts of the wyvern army and turned his dragons around to engage the remaining wyverns fleeing the canyon. Few wyverns flew out, most of which were cut down by his dragons. The few that escaped that fled to the mountains as his entire army let out a victorious cry!

***Warfang, deep underground***

Two figures met in the darkness. One was a dragon, cloaked in a black cloak, the other a wyvern, dressed in crude armor. "How went the day?" the wyvern asked the dragon, it's force deep and baritone.

"Well," said the dragon, his voice flat and unemotional, "How went the battle."

"Total defeat, just as you wished it two, my warriors were not armored as you requested and the apes aided the dragons as you predicted." the wyvern said, "Still, it will not have a good impact on our moral."

"As long as the dragons think they are winning, they will be increasingly vulnerable in Warfang." The dragon assured.

"By your command, Master Tykron." the wyvern said with a bow and left.

"Yes," the dragon mused, "by my command."


	5. Drop Flight

Legend of Spyro

Prophecy of Blood

Chapter V

***Temple Courtyard***

"I still don't think we should be doing this." Anteria complained in a hushed voice as she, Valiria, Watts, and Samson all gathered together under a a large tree in the Temple of Warfang's courtyard. Valiria had the large purple book with her and they were intending on reading it, despite Anteria's apprehension.

"Com'on," Valiria countered, "It's not like anyone will notice four dragons skipped out on the announcement ceremony for the winners of the elections."

"Val's right." Samson said, "Besides, it's not like it will be any surprise who won. This is much more interesting."

Anteria sighed and turned for Watts for help, "You agree with me don't you?" But Watts was starring up at the clouds, lost in thought, "Hmm, hello? Warfang to Watts, hello?!"

"Hmm, what?!" the yellow dragon asked, shaking his head and turning to his friends, "Sorry, lost in thought."

"Yeah, we noticed." Valiria remarked, "You've been lost in thought since yesterday, what's up?"

"Nothing." Watts denied, shaking his head, "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Which is?" Samson probed.

"Nothing." Watts muttered, not meeting his friend's eyes.

"Volkrone, what's wrong?" Anteria asked. Watts gulped, the only time people ever used his real name was if they were his uncle, strangers, or seriously concerned for him.

"It's nothing, well...it's just..."

"Watts, you can tell us, where your friends." Valiria assured.

"IamovingtogotrianwithVolteerandwontbebackforyears." He mumbled, barely audible.

"Speak up," Samson said, "It can't be that bad."

"I'm moving to go train with Volteer at the Old Temple tomorrow and won't be back for years." Watts said slowly.

"...oh Ancestors," Anteria muttered, extending her wing over him (a sign of companion amongst dragons), "Volkrone...I guess that's good news, you'll be a guardian and all." For Anteria Icenguard, those words where harder to say than the others realized. _Oh, my dear Watts, _she thought silently, _why now?_

"Yeah, think of the positive." Samson said, giving a forced smile.

"It won't be like we'll never see you, the Old Temple is only a few days flight away." Valiria encouraged.

"Thanks guys," Watts sighed and gave a forced smile, "Maybe it won't be so bad."

"Com'on, let's not spend your last day here sitting and being sad," Samson exclaimed, getting up, "let's go do something fun!"

"Yeah," Valiria agreed, getting up and putting her book in her pack, "Let's go drop flying!"

"Sounds great!" Watts nodded, getting up.

"Drop flying" is a way for dragons to practice flying and have fun. It involves three to eight dragons flying through a deep gorge/canyon. The lead dragon will issue commands such as "Drop left, right, down, up," and so on, all the while navigating his team through the gorge while flying close to the floor of the gorge. In the time before the war several teams would race through the track and the team's score would be composed of both the team's time minus the number of team members the team lost or "dropped" (despite the obvious risk, only two dragons have ever died during competition), giving rise to the activitie's name. Warfang was famous for it's Citadel Gorge, a particularly hard course that held the record for the most dropped dragons in one match.

Valiria and Samson led the way while Watts and Anteria lagged behind a bit, Watts still in heavy thought about leaving. "Hey Watts."

"Hmm?" Watts inquired, casting his gaze on Anteria.

"Tonight, maybe we should have a little dinner together before you leave?" Anteria suggested, trying to implant the idea of asking her out in the electric dragon's head.

"Sounds great!" Watts exclaimed as Anteria's heart soared, "Hey! Val, Samson, how's about we all meet at Devon's Dinner tonight!"

_Oh come on! _Anteria thought as her other friends agreed with eagerness, _Is he really that dense. Oh Ancestors, I really thought he finally understood. My dear Watts, maybe one day you'll understand..._

***Warfang Memorial Hospital***

"...and that is why the ancients where mistaken about the star our planet circles being the center of the universe." Volteer concluded as he and Spyro walked towards the hospital. Volteer had been rambling the entire time while Spyro had mostly tuned him out.

"So," Spyro said, before Volteer could pick a different topic and ramble again, "Why do you need Cyprus?"

"Hmm, oh, I thought that, since he was no longer going to be in a combat role I might employ him as a messenger." Volteer explained as the two dragons started to approach Cyprus's room, "He has fully recovered, right?"

"Physically, at least." Spyro sighed, "he blames himself his squadmates deaths. I suggested he take a leave of absence, and he excepted."

"Hmm...then maybe sometime away for all of this will help him regain his confidence," Volteer said as Spyro knocked on Cyprus's door.

"Come in." A faint voice responded and Spyro opened the door, "Ah, General Spyro, and Guardian Volteer," Cyprus said, turning to them, his grey body still riddled with scars and bruises, "What brings you here."

"Well, former Squadflyer Cyprus, I have a proposition for you," Volteer began, and before Cyprus could respond Volteer continued, "You see, I've been informed that you a very fast dragon."

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm-" Cyprus tried to say before Volteer, unaware Cyprus had said anything, continued.

"I think you were what, fourth in your class?"

"Second, actually, but I've-"

"Anyway, since I'm going to be training Volkrone, my nephew- you'd like him, he's a little shy at times but he's very smart and kind- to be the next electric guardian- which will be a very rigorous training..."

"Volteer, you're rambling aga-" Spyro interrupted, only to be cut off by Volteer, who now had his eyes closed, summoning what he thought were interesting facts to the forefront of his mind. A fine trait for a professor giving a lecture, but not for everyday conversation.

"...Of course, the training is absolutely essential if he is to pass the Trial of Thunder, but I am fairly confident that it will be easy for him when the time comes, especially with my training. Did you know that the Trial of Thunder was originally called.."

"Okay, it's just best if we tune him out now," Spyro said as Volteer continued to ramble, the older Electric Guardian unaware they weren't paying attention, "Long story short, Volteer needs you to be a messenger so he can contact the other Guardians during Watts' training."

"Sure, I can do that." Cyprus agreed, smiling a bit.

"Good," Spyro said and turned to Volteer, "Volteer!"

"Hmm, yes?" The Electric Guardian said, stopping his lecture.

"Cyprus has agreed to be a messenger."

"Splendid!" Volteer exclaimed and turned to Cyprus, "Be ready to leave tomorrow at sunrise. Meet me, Volkrone, and the others at the Main Gate, it will be good to have you with us."

"I hope so..."

***Warfang Temple, Cynder's room***

"Really Sparx, 'And blood dripped from her maw as the Terror of the Skies let out a vicious roar, her eyes glowing looked the crimson blood of her victims'?" Cynder remarked, giving Sparx a venomous look while Sparx continued to write in a book larger than himself with a pen half his size, "Some terrible things happened while I...while I was the Terror of the Sky but she...I ate anybody."

"Ah, come on," Sparx said dismissively, "It's called creativity."

"Yeah right," Cynder said, rolling her eyes, "And I suppose the part where you are worshiped as a god by the Atlawa is creativity as well."

"Hey, that actually happened!"

"I'll never believe it."

"Why do you and Spyro have to be so difficult!" Sparx sighed as he marked out the first line describing the Terror of the Skies, "Okay, how about this, 'The giant black dragoness swooped down like a whirlwind, her eyes glowing crimson and filled with evil!'"

"Better." Cynder replied with a nod of approval, "Now, about being worshiped as a-"

"For the last time, THAT REALLY HAPPENED!"

***Citadel Gorge***

"Drop left!" Watts cried as he, Valiria, Samson, and Anteria rolled left to avoid the left side of the canyon wall. The four friends were near the end of the dangerous gorge and having the time of there lives. Samson suddenly rushed ahead of the others and spiraled through a small ring structure in the canyon. The others "Dropped right" and avoided the risky maneuver.

"Come on, you should have tried it!" Samson called as he slowed down so the others could catch up.

"We're not all as skilled as you." Anteria complained, having trouble keeping up.

"Drop down and right!" Watts commanded as he and the other flew under a overhanging ledge and took a hard turn right. Anteria and Samson had to push off the left wall of the gorge to avoid running into it

"Good call Watts." Valiria complimented as the group increased their speed.

"Alright, this is were it gets tricky." Samson muttered.

"Drop down and hard left!" Watts commanded as they spun and descended under a arch and pulled left to avoid the wall.

"That was to close!" Anteria screamed as she scraped the side of the canyon.

"Tighten up!" Samson roared as they came upon the final pass.

"Ascend and drop right," Watts shouted as the four friends pulled up and to the right, "Drop left and down!" The others followed Watts' lead as their claws scraped against the red rock making up the canyon wall. "Now ascend!" Watts roared as they pulled up against the cliff. This is what made the Citadel run so dangerous, the final push up the four and a half mile high cliff.

_"Oh Ancestors!"_ Anteria thought as she struggled up the cliff, _"I'm not going to make it!"_

"Anteria!" She looked up to see Watts turned to her as they ascended the cliff, "you can make it, we're almost there!" She nodded, ignored the pain in her wings, and gave it one last burst of energy. Suddenly they were over the cliff and looking out at the sea. They all screamed and laughed in joy as they landed on the cliff overlooking the sea.

"Nice calling Watts." Valiria complemented as they landed.

"Yeah, even Anteria made it through this time." Samson remarked.

"Hey!" Anteria snapped, but then laughed. They all laughed as they looked out into the sun setting over the ocean, in complete bliss to the future and it's sorrow and tribulation.

***Warfang, deep underground***

"So I suppose the elections went well." the cloaked wyvern said as he and the cloaked dragon walked through the darkness of the underground caverns.

"Yes, it was a landslide." the cloaked dragon said with a laugh, "Those other two candidates never stood a chance."

"So when can we move forward with your plan." the cloaked wyvern inquired.

"Patients my good friend, we must wait until the Festival of the Blood Moons is over, as it is written."

The cloaked wyvern sighed, "I suppose until then we must keep falling back from the dragons."

"Yes," the cloaked dragon said, "unless you wish to instead besiege the city."

"The Dark Army managed to breach her walls!"

"And at a very high cost, one which we cannot afford to pay." The cloaked dragon responded calmly, "You have trusted me this far, continue to and you will have your seat in the palace."

"...By your command." the wyvern said as he retreated down the tunnel towards where the wyverns have hidden away, awaiting there chance to strike at Warfang.

"Already I can see that fact is escaping you." Tykron muttered as he too turned and walked back up through the tunnel and into Warfang.


	6. Badlands

Legend of Spyro

Prophecy of Blood

Chapter VI

Act II: Moonlight

***Dragon Army camp***

Spyro looked out in the direction of Warfang and sighed. It was only four days until the Blood Moons festival and he wanted to be there, trying to work up the nerve to tell Cynder how he felt, not here, stuck chasing down dragon lookalikes with smelly apes. Even if he had originally wanted to be out here with his squads and Issan, it was getting rather dull.

Tykron had insisted that he (Spyro) lead the relief army to backup Issan, but Issan hardly needed two-hundred more troops. The Grand General was winning victories left and right, even after the Wyverns started using armor. It was almost to easy. Spyro sighed once more and made his way down to the heart of the camp. Dragons, cheetah-men, and apes surged around him, going about there business preparing for the next engagement.

"Spyro!" He turned to see Caveriansia approaching him, "Just the dragon I was looking for."

"What's going o-"

"No time to explain," The young fire-dragoness general said, "Quickly round up six of your best warriors and meet me and Issan at the Southern Pass."

"Okay, but-"

"As I said, no time to explain." Caveriansia interrupted and turned, flying away.

"How odd." Spyro muttered as he too flew off to find the seven he thought were the best in his squads.

***Southern Pass, Mountain of Malefor***

Issan scanned the fourteen dragons assembled, and nodded in approval. "As you know we have been chasing the wyverns for quite some time now," Issan began, making eye contact with each one of them as he spoke, "Yet they flee whenever we engage them. So the question is where do they flee to. That is why I've gathered you all here, to find where these halflings nest."

As Issan paused the assembled dragons nodded. Issan took a deep breath and continued. "I'm sending you into the badlands north of here to track them down and then report back to me so we may annihilate the wyverns in one massive attack. You have been selected becuase you are the best, and I expect nothing less. Generals Spyro Chaplion and Caveriansia Leon will be in charge of the mission. Am I understood."

The dragons let out a chorus of "Aye Sir!"s and Issan nodded to Spyro and Caveriansia as they began to explain their plan. Issan turned and walked away, confident in his team's ability and probable success.

***Old Temple***

"No no no, you must feel the electricity, not just exert your will on it." Volteer scolded Watts as the young Guardian-to-be failed to sustain an electric attack. The two electric dragons had been at the Old Temple for three weeks now, and Volteer had trained Watts virtually nonstop. During that time, the others who had accompanied them had been busy restoring the Temple and had transferred three-fourths of the eggs back to the here to the Old Temple, "the electricity must become an extension of you consciousness, not simply an alien force to be manipulated."

"But how do I "feel" it?" Watts asked, aggravated with himself and his uncle's vague instruction as he attempted to control the electricity emitted by a small thunder crystal. Slowly and tentatively the electricity began to concentrate into a small ball at the tip of the crystal.

"Yes, yes! Now, let it come to you." Volteer encouraged as the ball of electrical energy slowly started to drift toward Watts, but then it wavered and dissipated into the air.

"Gaahh!" Watts yelled, slamming his tail into the ground, "This is impossible!"

"No, it's not," Volteer corrected, "It's just hard. Most dragons never come this far, but it is just the beginning of your training to be a Guardian."

"I'll never be good enough," Watts muttered, hanging his head down in disgrace.

"With that attitude certainly not." Volteer chastised, "Besides, your doing well, it took me almost eight weeks to manipulate electricity like you just did."

"Really?" Watts asked.

"Yes, it will take you at least ten years to be ready for the Trial of Thunder by my estimate," Volteer said, "It took me twelve years of training to be ready, and there was a war going on. Of course at that point everyone thought it was winding down since Malefor's first insurrection was put down and he was banished from this realm. It was just mopping up the rest of the ape forces and rebel dragons that was left. I was just twenty at the time. Extraordinary, it feels like ages ago yet it happened only about 150 years ago, a mer blink in the eye of history. The 150th year of the Age of Tribulation, Malefor defeated and a new group of Guardians. I was the youngest of the group-"

"Uncle," Watts interrupted, "Not that it's not interesting, it's just I've head this at least fifty times before."

"Hmm...oh, yes, well it doesn't hurt to hear it again," Volteer sighed, slightly offended, "but nevertheless, you're right, we must continue. Now, slowly this time, stretch out with your mind and call to the electricity."

Watts nodded and began to try again.

***Badlands***

Spyro and his team of six flew over the desolated landscape in silence. The Badlands had been destroyed during the Great War between the dragons and the wyverns and used to be lush and green when it was the wyvern homeland, but now hardly anything made its home here. It was nearly one-hundred miles of wasteland.

"So, General," one of his dragons, a red and black fire drake named Ereon, started, "How exactly did you get your last name?"

Spyro laughed, thinking about the anti-climatic ceremony, "Well, about a year after Cynder and I saved the world, Cyril brought up the fact that neither of us had house names. He insisted that we have one, since we were such great heros and all. Actually I just think he couldn't stand the blank space beside our names in the Book of Records."

"Most likely." A icy-blue ice dragoness, named Ienia, commented, "My uncle is a stickler about such things."

"Anyway," Spyro said, continuing is tale, "I was "invited" to the City Council Chambers along with Cynder and sat there while they argued over what _**my **_last name should be."

"Bet it was boring," A green and mud-orange colored earth dragon, named Vergor, commented.

"Extremely," Spyro laughed, looking down to check their position and sighed as he saw nothing of interest, "After about an hour of that they finally christened me the first member of the house of Chaplion and Cynder the first (and last, as she would take the house of the drake she joins) member of the house of Heren."

"Oh, I get it," Ienia cut-in, "Chaplion means champion in the Ancient language..."

"And Heren means Heroin." A grey and blue wind dragoness, called Werena, finished.

"Yep," Spyro confirmed, "Now if the Council would spend as much time fixing the city as they did handing out names..."

"Hey," Vermous, a yellow and tan electric dragon, shouted, pointing down, "Is it me or are those rocks moving?"

"Moving rocks?" Spyro questioned as he looked were his squadmate had pointed. Sure enough, it appeared that two rocks where moving quickly across the desert floor, "Werena, what are those things."

"Look to be Rock Wraiths," The wind dragoness stated, "Though it's rare to see one above ground."

"I would even go to say they're running from something." Vergor commented. Right as the words left his maw a rumbling noise came from the ground and a huge worm-like creature covered in armor-like scales with a mouth nearly fifty yards long filled with teeth spewed forth from the ground and devoured the wraiths.

"Holy Ancestors!" Ienia gasped, "What was that!"

"A Sandworm," Spyro said as started to veer left, away from where the monster had emerged, "We need to move. Those things can jump high enough to-"

"Dragonssss!" Spyro turned his head to see five grey wyverns flying towards them on an intercept course coming in from the left.

"Deltan formation!" The legendary purple general ordered as he and his company formed into a spear shaped flight pattern with Spyro as the spear point. The company then ascended to a higher altitude. "Stay well above the ground and keep one another in sight at all times!" Spyro commanded and his team the broke formation and engaged the wyverns.

The wyverns, to their credit, had the clear advantage of speed, but not power or numbers. Spyro easily took down the first wyvern with a ferocious fire blast. The second wyvern was killed by Vermous' lightning and a ice shard to the heart from Ienia. The third wyvern had longer to live as he and Ereon fought claw-to-claw until Vergor impaled the wyvern with his tailspike.

The next two wyverns engaged Werena and the final member of the group, an ice dragon named Cien. One wyvern hit Cien hard with a wind blast and quickly dug its claws into the ice dragon, killing him instantly. "Cien!" Werena screamed and launched an air blast of her own, shedding its wings and sending the now flightless lizard to the ground. Werena's victory was short lived, though, as she too was sent tumbling to the ground with the last wyvern on top of her, clawing at her armor.

"Werena!" Ereon yelled as he and Vergor dived towards her as she pushed way from the wyvern. As they approached, a rumbling was heard and the Sandworm leaped from the ground and devoured wyvern.

"Holy Ancestors!" Vergor yelled as he and Ereon caught Werena just before she hit the ground, "That thing just ate it in one gulp!"

"Werena, are you alright?" Ereon asked as he gently laid her down.

"I can't move my wings." She replied meekly as her wings hung uselessly at her sides.

"Whats the situation?" Spyro asked as he landed next to his troops.

"I can't fly sir and-!" Werena was cut off by another rumbling as the Sandworm rose up from the ground.

"Take Werena, I'll cover you!" The general commanded his remaining troops as he took flight towards the advancing Sandworm. As the two closed the gap between them, Spyro launched a fire ball. The Sandworm twisted its body and allowed the fire ball to harmlessly hit its armored hide.

"Well, th-" Spyro muttered as his velocity and the monster's movement caused them to collide, doing more damage to the young dragon than the giant worm. Spyro fell to the ground, roaring in pain and holding his right foreleg. The Sandworm descended into the ground to prepare for its next strike. Spyro pushed the pain out of his mind and concentrated, focusing on his earth element, feeling out the ground.

As the trembling began the legendary purple dragon leaped into the sky (using his wind element to give him an extra boost) moments before the Sandworm erupted from the surface. Spyro then built up his electrical energy and unleash them into the mouth of the beast. The Sandworm collapsed back down, its insides cooked by Spyro's electric blast. The victorious dragon flew back to his troops, painting and holding his foreleg, but otherwise uninjured.

"That was amazing!" Ereon commented, still helping Werena walk.

Spyro remained silent for a bit, counting his troops, "Cien didn't make it, did he?"

"No sir," Werena said, looking down, "It's my fault sir, he was my wing man. I-"

"Werena!" Spyro interrupted, chasing her to shrink a bit, "This is war, Cien was ready to give his life. Honor his memory, do not diminish his sacrifice by placing the blame on yourself!"

"...Aye sir."

"Besides, he was my responsibility," Spyro stated in a less severe tone, "You all are, and that is why we must pull back. Werena, I'm going to use my wind element to carry you, but I'll need your help to stabilize it, understood?"

"Aye." The injured wind dragoness answered, this time more confidentiality.

"Everyone else, keep a look put for more wyverns."

***A distance away from Spyro's scouting troop, hidden within a cliff face***

"That was too close." The sand colored wyvern muttered to the dark green wyvern. Both were dressed in plate armor made from the hide of the Sandworm, marking them as elites. "They were basically on top of our base. If we where discovered!"

"It would have made little difference," The green wyvern stated, his eyes locked on the retreating dragons, "Soon we will reveal ourselves, and dragon blood will run like a river!"

"But what about Tykron, don't we have a deal with him?"

"His blood will join his fellows," The green wyvern sneered, "Just like the rest."


	7. Drops of Blood

Legend of Spyro

Prophecy of Blood

Chapter VII

"...and may my son be wise and strong, growing to know right from wrong, praise." Diasdra said as she finished her prayer and got up from the alter. The alter was a beautiful marble stone pillar about three feet high with a gold bowl filled with water on it. Diasdra's claws where still wet from soaking them in the water (symbolizing repentance of past wrongs) and she carefully moved away as to not disturb the other dragons praying.

The Cathedral of Warfang was a sight to behold from the inside, the walls layered in gold and silver. The walls rounded off into the glistening crystal-covered dome that capped the temple. Seven pillars supported the structure, each one representing an element (Fire, ice, wind, electricity, water, earth, and light). Currently, the Cathedral mostly hosted priest and priestess at the moment, Diasdra her self being a priestess.

As she passed by the other priestess, she spotted a lone ice dragoness sitting in one of the almost empty pews. The young dragoness was crying softly, looking at one of the stained glass windows that depicted a scene of two dragons in a passionate embrace. "Are you alright child?" Diasdra asked, approaching the weeping dragoness.

"Hmm...yes, I'm fine..." The young ice dragoness responded, wiping away some of her tears.

Diasdra sat down next to the dragoness and looked up at the window, "I'm guessing you know the story of Verial and Zerindo."

"Yes," The ice dragoness responded, "they where two dragons in love but separated by great distance. Zerindo was fighting against the Wyvern Empire and Verial was a young handmade of Warfang's princess. She prayed for him daily and feared that each time she saw him would be the last. Then came the day the war ended, and Zerindo returned home a hero and newly announced Guardian. The first thing he did when he returned was go to Verial and embrace her, promising to never leave her side again."

"It's one of the great love stories," Diasdra said, glancing at the young dragoness, "and is one of the best, in my opinion. It shows love can overcome any distance and any war."

"But what if you're unsure whether or not the one you love loves you back?"

"That's a risk we all take," Diasdra commented, turning her gaze once again to the stained glass, "Even Verial had to take that chance with Zerindo. But let me tell you, my personal experience tells me the risk is worth it."

"Alright," The ice dragoness said, getting up, sipping her eyes dry, "Thank you, as soon as he gets back I'm going to ask him. Thank you."

"No problem," Diasdra said with a smile as the young dragoness hurried out of the Cathedral, "I'm sure you won't be disappointed you tried."

***Warfang Apothecary***

Spyro grunted in pain as his right foreleg was wrapped up in a cast, "I can't believe that I let that thing get a hit on me. Ancestors this hurts!"

"Oh hush," The healer dragoness, an earth dragoness named Liria, said as she finished the cast, "There, now we're all done." The healer then turned and walked away, tending to other patients.

"Well, glad to see you're patched up." Tykron commented, the yellow and blue dragon had been (and still was sitting) to the left of the wounded general during the hole procedure.

"I thought she'd never finish." Spyro grunted, "It still hurts."

"Broken wrist don't heal instantly." Cynder, currently sitting to the right of Spyro (as she had been for the duration of the procedure), commented.

"I can still fight though!" Spyro growled in frustration, hating every second he was separated from his battalions.

"Not for at least another month." Tykron said. Spyro sighed and Cynder made a remark on being patient. The two bickered a bit, allowing Tykron the window he needed. Very carefully, he used his tail to swap the vial of Spyro's blood (drawn to check for infection) with a vial of red colored water and placed the real sample in his bag. "Well then," The recently elect Head of the Council interrupted, "I must be going."

"Oh, bye Tykron!" Spyro responded, a little disheartened seeing his mentor leave. As his mentor left, he turned his attention back to Cynder. "Hey, err...you know that dance coming up at the festival tomorrow?"

Cynder's heart skipped a beat, "Yes?"

"Well, I was wondering if, you know, if you wanted..."

***Warfang main gate***

Watts landed at the gate and patently awaited for it to open. It had seemed like forever since he had been back. His uncle, Volteer, had allowed him to take a break from training and attend the Blood Moons festival.

The gates suddenly swung open and an elder earth dragon was there to greet him, "Ah, Volkrone, I see you've arrived safely."

Watts smiled and responded, "Hey Terrador, thanks for letting me stay with you while I'm here."

The old earth Guardian gave a deep laugh, "It is no problem, my boy, it will be nice to have some company."

"Yeah, I'm sure the Temple is quieter without my uncle blab bing about the first thing that pops in his mind."

"True," Terrador laughed, his deep baritone voice seemingly commanding the attention of all those who surrounded them, "How is your training coming."

Watts sighed, "Slowly." He admitted, "It's one of the hardest things I've ever done."

"Well, that's what it will take to become a Guardian." Terrador said and then stopped, "But I'm sure you wish to see your friends."

"Yeah, I'll see you later!" Watts said as he ran off towards the park where he had planned to meet his friends. Suddenly, a dragon walking from the Cathedral was in his way and, unable to alter his course, they collided.

"Oh Ancestors! I'm sorry!" Watts said as he helped the ice dragoness up, "I should've been paying closer attention I-... Anteria?"

"Watch where you're going you...WATTS!" Anteria screamed, tackling her friend, "Oh I'm so happy to see you!"

"You as well!" Watts gasped, pushing her off to get a breath, "I see you've been working on tackling."

"Hey!" Anteria laughed, "Obviously you haven't been working on street navigation."

"Well, how have you been?" Watts said as he laughed.

"Good, you?"

"Eh, I'm glad to be back for a bit." Watts commented as they started to walk, "Anything interesting happen?"

"No, just preparing for the Blood Moons festival," Anteria said, building up her nerve, "Which, err...brings me to another point..."

"Yes?"

Anteria took a deep breath, "Would you be my date for the festival?"

Watts froze for a second, his mind practically seizing up, "Run that by me-"

"Would you be my date for the festival?" Anteria repeated, her heart racing with anticipation.

_Oh Ancestors, I've never thought of her like that! Oh, what am I going to say. Say something! _Watts thought before the word "Yeah."slipped through his mouth.

Anteria practically screamed with delight and hugged the Guardian-to-be. "Meet me at seven thirty tomorrow for the festival! I can't wait!" She then flew off, her heart filled with joy.

Watts stood there, trying to figure out what had happened. "Oh Ancestors," he muttered, "What have I done?!"

***Lair of the Wyverns***

"I do not like this Nightlock," The white and blue wyvern said as she and her two male wyvern companions walked through the dimly lit rock hallways of the Wyvern underground city. Her name was Lirtaloc and she, along with the other two wyverns, made up the Triumvirate.

"It will work, Tykron expects no betrayal from us." The black wyvern, Nightlock, countered, "He is distracted by his own people."

"Yes," The third, a dark green wyvern by the name of Yonlin, agreed, "A the purple dragon can be defeated, I have seen it bleed."

"We just have to wait till after Tykron completes his blood ritual and makes us invincible, then we strike and kill." Nightlock said, as bloodthirsty grin edged on his maw.

"And what if the spell doesn't work after he is dead?" Lirtaloc inquired, her intuition warning her against the ritual, "Why not just kill him before."

"Can't hurt to try it," Yonlin said as they approached the war room, "Imagine, an unkillable army, our victory is assured!"

"Our people have tried blood magic before, and we paid a steep price." Lirtaloc objected,

"That was then, this is now," Nightlock reputed, "The world is teeming with magical energy after its near destruction, and now blood magic is easier to use."

Lirtaloc shook her head and sighed, "I wash my claws of this."

"Good to know," Yonlin smirked, "That way we can claim all the reward."

***Warfang Apothecary***

"Alright Spyro, you can go ahead and leave," Lirai said to the purple dragon as Cynder helped him out of his bed, "We'll run some test on your blood, but you can return to the Temple. But you are not under any circumstances to return to battle unless cleared by me, understood?"

"Fine." The legendary dragon muttered as he and his date left, whispering to each other and planning the events for the coming festival.

The healer dragoness sighed as she watched them leave, "Back to work then." She then took the sample of Blood to the back and laid it on a table. She picked up a small jade colored crystal and held it to the sample, but nothing happened. "Strange," Lirai said, expecting the crystal to either turn blue, meaning infection, or red, meaning no infection, but no reaction at all was peculiar. She tried again and received similar results. She then opened the vile and poured the red liquid into a bowl.

"Why this isn't blood!" She said, her mouth slightly hung open due to shock, "What happened to the real sample!"

***Tykron residence***

Tykron labored over a large cauldron, throwing in several ingredients and occasionally blasting the elixir within the black pot with electric. He was in an underground room, surrounded by cave walls. It was sometime past evening and most of Warfang was now asleep, eagerly awaiting the festivities of tomorrow. Tykron too longed for the next day, but for a more sinister reason.

"Almost done," The electric dragon commented as he added silver, fine powder to his evil alchemy. He then took the sample of Spyro's blood and slowly poured half of it into the mix. There was a puff of smoke and a clap of thunder. Tykron smiled.

***Elsewhere***

The adult blue dragon known as the Chronicler sighed heavily as he looked down at Tykron's book. He stood in the midst of a great library filled with books, each book recording the life of a dragon. His task was an important one, and he had a role to play on the world, but a limited one. That's why the Chronicler is a tough position, he still sees the world but cannot directly act in it.

"Oh, this will turn out badly," The blue bookkeeper said, "Evil has made its move. So soon too, hardly is fair to Spyro and Cynder. I did hope they'd see though him before it's to late, "but what's done cannot be undone, what is sung cannot be unsung, what lurks in the dark must come to light, for none escape the Creator's sight," or so the ancient proverb reads." He sighs again and opens another book, this one blue and silver. "There was to be a loop-hole somewhere..."


	8. Pools of Blood

Legend of Spyro

Prophecy of Blood

Chapter XIII

The Memorial Gardens of Warfang, located near the outskirts of the city, where something to behold. Within the garden walls was a sanctuary from the hustle of the last civilized settlement known to dragonkind. Trees stood tall over the sculpted landscape, some older than the city itself. Flowers of all variety grew in even rows, some of which no longer grew in the wild. Sculptures saved from many fallen cities were on full display, priceless in value and cultural significance. And at the center of the haven was a small island surrounded by a small pond connected to the rest of the garden by a stone bridge. On that island stood three obsidian obelisks, each of which had rows and rows of names inscribed on them, and a small altar set in front of the obelisks.

Samson stood in front of the alter, staring at the obelisks. In his right claw was clutched a letter, in his eyes tears silently formed. "Well, it's been a year, hasn't it?" He spoke, "I-, Mom's still doing fine. She is still working on improving the walls. Esau and Petela are growing like weeds, almost ready to start school." He paused for a moment and then held the letter to the hot coals on the fire.

"Talk to you again next year, dad." The earth dragon said as the flames burned up the letter. The drake took a deep breath; the few tears he had shed hitting the ground. Each year he shed fewer tears. One year he may shed none, but he had vowed to come every year.

"Samson!" The drake turned around to see a small mud-green dragonling with small wings run up to him. "Esau is picking on me!"

"Am not!" A mud-orange dragonling of about the same size came running up to defend himself. "She is just easily startled!"

"You're used fire breath on me!"

"You shouldn't be such a crybaby about it!"

"I am not a crybaby!"

"Yeah you are! Cry-"

"Enough!" Samson half roared, causing the two twins to stop bickering, "Esau, did you really use your fire breath?"

"Yep!" The young drake swelled with pride, "Wanna see?!"

"Es-" Without waiting for permission, the dragonling exhaled a small burst of flame. Harmless, but unusual for someone his age.

"See!? See!?" The dragonling exclaimed, hopping up and down.

Samson smiled, "It is very impressive, little bro, but you can't use your fire here. Okay?"

The dragonling stopped his excited hoping and nodded. "Alright. I can't wait to show mom though!"

"I'm sure she'll be impressed."

"Where's daddy's name?"

Samson turned around to see Petela staring up at one of the obelisk. "I'll show you." He said and let her and her brother climb on his back. "There, 'Samson von Tremion III.'" The two dragonlings stared at the name, the only real connection they had with their father.

"He was brave, right?" Esau asked, putting his small claw over the name.

"Yes," answered Samson, "very."

The city of Warfang was bustling with excitement. Tonight was the night of twin Blood Moons and the 750th anniversary of the defeat of the Wyvern empires. Banners and ribbons were hung, festive lanterns lit with a distinct red tent, and special memorials were on display depicting the war (from an extremely biased view, of course). It was to be a night long remembered.

For the future Electric Guardian Watts, however, it was pure torture. He had hoped to spend time with his friends, cut loose a bit, maybe even sneak some wine if Samson dared him, but not have to stand still as a tailor fixed a hot, stuffy, and heavy robe around him and meticulously place patterns and jewels "worthy of his Guardian status" on them.

Cyril, who had forced him to where these robes as soon as he found out he was to attend the party alongside his grandniece, stood across from him arguing about how the lightning bolt emblems should be arranged. It didn't help that Watts still didn't know how he felt about his date.

"Ouch!" Watts exclaimed, snapping him out of his self-pity.

"Sorry," the tailor, a cheetah-woman dressed in a blue toga muttered, "but I have to keep realigning these emblems because someone insist that every detail must match up with a thousand-year old design."

"Seven-hundred and fifty-year-old design, thank you very much!" Cyril huffed. "He, along with myself, will be the first Guardians to attend the celebration since before the Wars of Malefor."

Silently, Watts envied Terrador. The Earth Guardian had "volunteered" to watch the egg chamber tonight while he and Cyril "got the prestigious honor of attending the festivities." The elderly dragon was never really the sociable type, at least according to his overly social uncle.

"Isn't it a little heavy?" Watts complained, "I mean, I need to be able to move."

"You see," The cheetah tailor exclaimed, "I told you it has getting heavy. A simple shoulder-cape and collar would look much better. I can't count how many I have fashioned this week."

"Tradition is-"

"What if I incorporated some of the emblems into the cape?" The tailor suggested.

Cyril huffed, "Fine, but next time there is a celebration we use the traditional robe." The Ice Guardian then but a large sack of gold on the counter, "I'm afraid I must be leaving." The dragon then left the establishment, the door slamming behind him.

Watts sighed in relief as the heavy robe was removed from him. "Thanks," He muttered.

"No problem," The Cheetah said, fitting a silver and gold collar onto him. "I'm just glad he listened. Most of the time it's 'Tradition, tradition, tradition!' That they want places where they can hide knives and such."

"Does that happen a lot?" Watts asked, his curiosity peaking.

"All the time with high-ranking cheetahs," The tailor confirmed as she began to hold up different capes, "Of course they would never say 'Make a place for a hidden knife,' They would insist on small pockets that would be hard to find. Of course, it's almost mandatory among Chieftains now. I think lightning blue."

"Interesting," Watts muttered as she fitted the shoulder-cape onto him. "Well, thanks for all of the help! Um, what time is it?"

"About three fifteen."

"Three fifteen!" Watts jumped, knocking the tailor back. "Oh, Ancestors, I can't be late." The drake then charged out the door and took flight, leaving the tailor dazed.

Spyro nervously fiddled with his dark purple cape as he waited in the courtyard. It was almost four o'clock, and the festival was about to start. Cynder had yet to appear. His adopted brother, who was buzzing in his ear at the moment, was doing little to ease his nerves.

"You know, perhaps she decided to find a date who was less fat," Sparx gibed, resorting to his favorite remark. "I told you to start eating more salads."

Spyro rolled his eyes. A small part of him wanted to swat him, but only a small part. "Or maybe she is deciding on what kind of cage to put you in," Spyro retorted, positioning his head away from the dragonfly.

Sparx just hovered closer, "Or maybe she is decided this whole festival thing was a dumb idea. Which it is."

"Sparx, would-"

"Sparx, would you leave me to my date?" The two brothers turned their gaze on the approaching black dragoness. She had a long transparent silver silk robe that draped over her back but let her wings out. She also had on a silver necklace with a black crystal in the center. The crystal had been given to her by Spyro on her latest birthday.

"Well, she did show up. See? (added question mark) I told you not to worry!"

"Cynder," Spyro paused, stepping forward towards her, "you look...amazing."

"Um, thanks." Cynder blushed, her confidence she had worked up for the entire day almost evaporating on the spot. The two stared at each other, unsure how to continue.

"Well then," Sparx coughed, breaking the silence, "I'll just leave you two love birds to enjoy the party, alright."

"Yes," Spyro said, snapping out of his trance. "You, uh, have fun tonight Sparx."

"Oh, I will," The dragonfly smirked, "And you don't have too much fun tonight. I don't want to be an uncle before I'm a best man, ya hear?"

"Sparx!" Spyro yelled, blushing. The dragonfly just winked and flew off to the safety of the temple. "That insufferable dragonfly."

"Spyro, he's just teasing," Cynder said in a knowing tone. "Besides, it's almost time for the party to begin."

Spyro nodded, "Yeah, I guess we huh-" He paused again, trying to remember what he had rehearsed. "I mean; it would be my pleasure to accompany you to the dance."

"Oh, of course, sir knight," Cynder said, smiling and deciding to humor him, "Shall we be off then?"

"Yes, let's!"

Two robed bipedal met in halls of the domed building that housed the Council of Warfang. One was Julien J'avik, ambassador of the Cheetah Tribes. The other was Hunter Tigro, the first Grand Chieftain to lead the Tribes in over two centuries. The two embraced each other in a friendly hug.

"How has it been, my friend." Hunter asked as they parted. The two had not met in over a year, Hunter having the difficult task of reorganizing several settlements and Julien having the task of playing politics. They began to walk away from the Council building.

"Well my friend," Julien exalted, a smile spread across his maw, "I have made several inroads and friends here."

"Really?" Hunter asked, surprised, "Our people have tried for centuries to make friends with the dragons, but since the destruction of our ancestor's homeland…"

"That's just it, I think I can get them to hand over the Valley of Avalar back over to us and allow us to rebuild our cities!"

Hunter was stunned, "Did you just say-"

"Yes, and Tykron has even promised to help rebuild our cities."

Hunter's shocked expression turned into a scowl, "Tykron, I thought I told you not to trust him."

"Why?" Julien asked, turning down an unpopulated street with Hunter close behind. "He has done no wrong. In fact, he has promised to make us great again."

"The Guardians do not trust him," Hunter answered sternly.

Julien laughed, "The Guardians are a dyeing order. Their power has been waning. We must pledge ourselves to a new power. One that will-"

"Wait," Hunter stopped. He turned to his friend and looked into his eyes, "When did you have red eyes."

"...Master Tykron has need of you Hunter, son of Tigro." Julien said, revealing a hidden dagger. "You shall be his lieutenant. You shall lead the Cheetah race by his side." Julien then plunged the dagger into his own chest, "You shall be his now." Julien's eyes returned to their usual purple color as blood soaked through his clothes.

"Julien!" Hunter screamed, catching his friend as he fell.

"Amicus vicimas lumen in maibus suis. Hunter sanguine et ligabis ad Tykron"

Before Hunter could turn to see who had spoken, Julien's blood gushed out, blinding. Slowly, Hunter's mind was clouded. He could feel the foreign entity invade his mind, imposing its will on him. A will that yearned to serve Tykron.

Tykron walked out of the shadows. He was dressed in full body golden battle armor and had several magical crystals embedded into his chest plate. He approached the Cheetah known as Hunter. "Arise."

The Cheetah dropped the carcass of his former servant and turned to him, "Master." The Cheetah addressed him, his eyes now glowing red.

"Good." Tykron grinned, looking into the Cheetah's red eyes, "It seems the spell works flawlessly on beings whom have no magical connection."

"Your powers are remarkable, Master."

"Yes, they are." Tykron laughed, "Go rally your men. Take with you Julien's medallion and await further instructions."

"By your command," The Cheetah said, reaching down and taking the medallion off his friend's body and running off to find his men. Tykron then turned his attention to the body. Letting loose a surge of electricity, he blackened it beyond recognition.

* * *

**Hi, author here. I'd like to say thanks for being so patient with this. Also, a shout-out to my beta reader, **Zilla0128, **who will be beta reading from this chapter on.**


End file.
